


Tangled Up

by Little_Lottie (tfwatson), tfwatson



Series: Tattooed Heart [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oral Sex, Slight Voyeurism, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-12 06:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7923289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfwatson/pseuds/Little_Lottie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfwatson/pseuds/tfwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>As time passes, the sun continues its little game. Sebastian shuffles incrementally towards Chris as he chases its heat; a slightly inaccurate yet enthusiastic sundial. Chris clutches the pages of a prospective script, knowing that he shouldn’t be looking; Sebastian isn’t his to look at.</i><br/> <br/>Chris, Seb and Mackie enjoy some down time during the Civil War press tour. Sebastian makes a deal and it's everything Chris ever wanted. Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts), [luninosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luninosity/gifts).



> Writer appreciation day completely passed me by, so I just wanted to say a belated and big thank you to the amazing writers in this fandom whose stories I love.
> 
> This isn’t beta’d and all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Edit: @elenaamerican has really kindly let me link to her amazing Evanstan art, which is the perfect visual counterpart to this story. Check it out here: http://elenaamerican.tumblr.com/post/150635513018/hello . Its amazing!!

_London, 2016_

 

Amidst the circus of press, fans and London gray skys, Sebastian has found the brightest, warmest shaft of light in the city. He’s been sprawled on Mackie’s sofa, perfectly content to bask in that sunlit spotlight till he’s drowsy and drunk on it. Chris’ heart aches with fondness as he eagerly watches his friend follow the lone sunbeam on its gradual journey from one end of the sofa to the other.

 

It’s been a soft but bleak sort of day. Rain showers and fluffy clouds, bubbling up, passing over, starting all over again. They’d done a few interviews that morning, Seb and Mackie heading off in one direction and Chris in another. He never finds his interviews easy, especially when he’s on his own. With one of his cast members by his side, he over analyzes a little less. Feels more grounded.

 

He’d heaved a sigh of relief when they were all back together again, ushered about by efficient press officers and returned to the hotel for the full Civil War press conference. It had been Chris’ favorite part of the press tour so far - full of camaraderie and shared responsibility, a sense of team and belonging.

 

Then, indulged like overtired toddlers, they’d been given some down time. Chris and Sebastian have naturally gravitated to Anthony’s hotel room. They’re all jet lagged and exhausted, but Chris thinks he’s probably the only one who’s sitting there pathetically pining.

 

Chris looks up again, another surreptitious little glance. Sebastian’s head is bowed over his phone and he’s sunk in the over-eager couch cushions which seem to want to eat him alive; Chris doesn’t blame them. Chris on the other hand is slumped in the opposite corner, too tired to sit upright and too awkward to pull off Sebastian’s clumsy grace.

 

As time passes, the sun continues its little game. Sebastian shuffles incrementally towards Chris as he chases its heat; a slightly inaccurate yet enthusiastic sundial. Chris clutches the pages of a prospective script, knowing that he shouldn’t be looking. Sebastian isn’t his to look at.

 

“Chris, you creep,” Mackie shouts from the bedroom.

 

Chris jumps guiltily, his heart in his throat at the horrifying thought of being caught staring like the pervert he almost certainly is.

 

“Have you taken my socks again?”

 

Chris’ heart starts to settle back into its normal rhythm. Without looking up, Sebastian’s lips quirk in an amused smirk.

 

“Sebastian’s feet were cold,” Chris calls back through the wall, looking down at Sebastian’s toes which are now adorned with stolen heat-inducing cotton. Sebastian’s grinning mischievously, even though he wasn’t complicit, only gratefully receiving.

 

Chris feels his face flushing because he’s pretty sure that stealing Mackie’s socks to warm Sebastian’s toes is probably still sappy enough to be embarrassing. He forces his gaze down to the script and cringes. In an act of self cruelty, he’s apparently been annotating in horrifying blood red ink. The sight is far from comforting.

 

He does manage to get some actual reading done before Sebastian absently shifts again, another inch further west. He’s almost in Chris’ lap now. When they bump arms, he looks up in confusion as though this proximity has come as a complete surprise to him. Chris watches as the confusion fades and his face lights up with a beautifully soft smile. Chris finds himself fidgeting nervously, dreamily shuffling the paperwork in his lap.

 

Mackie walks in and stops dead.

 

“You do know that sofa can seat like four people,” he says, indicating the entire length of the sofa, three quarters of which is deserted in favor of the three foot of space Chris and Sebastian now occupy.

 

Mackie’s look is pointed and Chris starts to wish that the couch cushions would deign to swallow him up too. Sebastian just shrugs slowly and somehow manages to communicate the same sentiment through one of his beautifully animated facial expressions.

 

Sebastian’s just that bit too bright, too beautiful and full of heart and Chris has to look away. When something sharp digs into his clenched fist, he realizes he’s pulled the script’s unoffending paperclip apart. 

 

“Seabass, I’m pretty sure you’ve read the whole internet by now.” Mackie nudges him playfully before passing him a cup of coffee that Sebastian clasps reverently. “Want to share?” he adds in his Sam Wilson everyday counsellor voice.

 

Seb stretches a bit, looking soft and warm and part of the sofa. “I’m just reading an article. Apparently there’s a scientific reason why people want to bite cute things.”

 

Chris is pretty sure that Mackie’s not interested in the merits of the article so it’s disconcerting that he’s grinning the way he is.

 

“Are we talking animals?” Mackie says, eyes darting between Chris and Sebastian. “Or humans?”

 

Chris narrows his eyes at him when he’s sure Seb isn’t looking, but he actually wants to smile. What Chris has taken from this one sentence is that it’s perfectly normal to want to bite _Sebastian_. And Chris feels entirely validated.

 

As luck and psychology would have it, it’s not his fault that he wants to prod Sebastian’s smiling cheeks with his fingers to make them squidge up, nibble the soft skin just behind his ear or drag teeth over his collarbone. Well, these kind of specifics probably weren’t measured in the study; he extrapolating.

 

“I can’t work out where you’re going with this Anthony,” Sebastian says playfully mocking, “but it’s talking about little fluffy kittens and bouncing puppies.”

 

“Or the human equivalent,” Mackie persists, looking at Chris and indicating to Sebastian. “Seabass is part cat.”

 

“Like an ocelot,” Chris blurts, and feels his face flush instantly. He swallows hard, clears his throat. “Nothing cuter than an ocelot right?”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but we’re gonna go with it because it’s cute,” Mackie agrees firmly. “We’re gonna have to call him vanilla ocelot in the name of science. Chocolate ocelot sounds better though, am I right?”

 

Sebastian beams, “I bet that’s fun to say. Cho-co-late. Oc-e-lot.”  He’s precariously balanced, leaning forward to make a grab for his phone where he threw it in favor of the restorative powers of coffee. The couch waits to catch him if he topples back, and Chris just happens to be there if he topples forward.

 

“What do ocelots look like?” Sebastian asks, vaguely directing the question to his phone, even though Chris knows for a fact that Siri isn’t activated. Sebastian was very certain when he said that Siri did _not_ reflect his phone’s personality. He swipes at the screen, fingers tapping. “How are we spelling this?”

 

Sebastian seems so delighted that Chris has to physically clamp his jaw shut on the urge to say something else ridiculous. Instead he contents himself to watch the muscles in Sebastian’s forearms as he thumbs at his phone.

 

When he can tear his eyes away, Anthony is looking at him knowingly. Chris tries to wipe the expression off his face by launching the paperclip at his head. It has a new vocation at last.

 

~

 

Chris had been happy on their little sofa island. He’d have happily stayed there for all eternity, but the afternoon had morphed into evening, Sebastian was all out of sun and Mackie’s food stores turned out to be decidedly underwhelming.

 

When Chris discovered that they’d also cleared out Mackie’s mini bar the night before, he perked up, eager to offer alcohol related solace. 

 

“I have beer,” he said, stuffing the last of the peanuts into his mouth. “My agent’s assistant didn’t know what to buy me for a late birthday present, so she got me beer.”

 

“Who are you kiddin’?” Mackie scoffed. “She clearly knew _exactly_ what to buy you.”

 

“She shouldn’t have bought me anything,” Chris grumbled. He’s not great at accepting gifts; he gets hot and sweaty in the face of surprise, and he hates the thought that she might have felt obligated to get him something.

 

Deciding to follow the beer even though it meant dragging their asses fifty paces down the hall, it was between rooms that Chris had made his next error of judgment. Seb stuffed a cap onto his head on the way out, moaning about how he can’t tame his hair even on a good day. Bumping into the wall because he’s too tired to walk straight, Chris frowned like he always does when his friend puts himself down.

 

“Your hair’s awesome, man!” his mouth exclaimed overenthusiastically before sanity could stop it. Turns out that the insubordination’s catching and his hands want in on the act. They’re making a calming motion as though trying to placate Sebastian’s potentially offended hair. He clears his throat, a whir of panic insisting he continues running his mouth. “I mean...your hair always looks like it’s having a lot of fun.”

Mackie snorts.

 

“What?” Chris blurted. “Was that weird?” Of course it was weird. “That was weird wasn’t it?”

 

“That you personified my hair?” Seb smirked. “Noooo.”

 

Sarcasm suits him. Like everything suits him. Lazy slow smiles over the top of a Starbucks cup, effusive monologues about the International Space Station, deadpan delivery of suggestive puns, how he’s all fluffy white innocence when his eyes spell mischief. The way his face lights up at the sight of his fans, and how it’s obvious that part of him thinks there must be some mistake and that they’re actually looking for someone else. And God does Chris want him. Everything about him. But what he wants and what he should have are two entirely different things. He should know that by now. ~

 

On autopilot, Chris’d made his way around his hotel suite, collecting beer and finding a bottle of vodka that he thinks might belong to a member of Team Iron Man, and briskly picking up dirty clothes from the floor of his bedroom as though anyone but him will be using it tonight.

 

Bed unnecessarily straightened, he’s now heaped on the sofa and Sebastian has apparently settled on the floor near his feet because he’s pulled out of his own head by the clasp of a soft, warm hand around his ankle. Chris looks down to see wide eyes gazing up at him, and swallows hard.

 

“Pass me the Vodka?” Sebastian asks, regrettably removing his hand. Chris still feels the heat against his skin, knows he’ll feel those fingerprints for days.

 

Chris doesn’t care that much for Vodka so he’s more than a little surprised to see that the bottle is not only in his hand, but that he’s consumed plenty of it. Now he thinks of it, he can feel the buzz lightening his bones.

 

He smirks down, and shakes his head slowly; the need to see Seb make grabby hands is too strong to relinquish the bottle just yet.

 

He’s a little relieved when he’s distracted from Sebastian’s sinful pout by Mackie proclaiming “Vodka” in a heavy Russian accent, chanting it as though he’s doing vocal warm up exercises. “What is _that_?” Sebastian taunts him in amusement, before turning his attention back to Chris and giving him a pointed look. “I’m not above begging.” Chris chokes on a mouthful of the stuff.

 

“ _Vod-ka_.” Anthony continues regardless; louder this time. “You _have_ to say it an accent.” He side eyes Sebastian before continuing “Like... _Transylvaniaaaaa_.”

 

“Oh Jesus, don’t start.” Sebastian’s laughing and inching his way over to the bottle.

 

“No way,” Chris says and flourishes the bottle out of reach. “I was promised begging.” It’s all bravado because he’s not actually sure he can cope with Sebastian begging. He’s afraid it will make his heart melt. Or his dick hard. One or the other. Possibly both. Sebastian raises an eyebrow.  “Didn’t your mom ever teach you to share?”

 

“Yes, but she wasn’t talking about hard liquor.”

 

“Chris, seriously, just...” Sebastian lets out a world weary sigh and then he’s pouting again and reaching out a demanding hand. “Hand it over.”

 

Chris grins delightedly. He’s tipsy; limbs looser, mind quieter. He tightens his grip on the bottle. “Absolutely not.”

 

Seb turns enormous bright and pleading eyes from Chris to Mackie, who laughs from the other couch.

 

“Fuck man,” Mackie says through a laugh. “How does he even do that?”

 

Chris has both no idea and every idea what he’s talking about.  

 

“Those puppy dog eyes are enviable man,” Mackie continues. Its part of his new mission to compliment Sebastian wherever he goes because he knows the endearingly self-deprecating giggle he’ll get in response.

 

Sebastian scowls and it would probably be intimidating if Chris didn’t think it so adorable. “What do you have against truth or dare anyway?” Chris asks, taking another pull from the bottle, wincing at the burn but not feeling it as much as he probably should. This is a bad idea.

 

“Maybe I have secrets?” Sebastian suggests. Then he goes suspiciously still, like he’s plotting his next move, looks up through dark lashes and says, “Please.”

 

Wow, ok.  Chris wasn’t expecting that.  He clears his throat as subtly as he can. “When you agree to join in the drinking games like a grown up, then I’ll share.”

 

Slouching back and stretching out in defiance of everyone who’d every told him to sit up straight, Chris casually admires the ceiling and listens to Sebastian slyly canvass Mackie instead. He imagines he can feel Sebastian sizzle with harmless indignation at his feet, and grins.

 

“Oh my God, I can’t bear it,” Mackie groans around a mouthful of pizza. “Just give him the bottle.”

 

Chris laughs, full and happy. “Dude, nothing less than an orgasm is gonna prize this bottle outta my hand.”

 

He inhales sharply when he hears his own joke. It’s not funny and the image it conjures has his cock stiffening in the already tight confines of his jeans. But he won’t shut the daydream down, because he’s imagining Sebastian, gloriously naked, on his bed. Acres of beautifully soft skin, the hard press of his body against Chris, the delicious tangle of limbs, gasps of pleasure and…

 

“Deal.”

 

Chris frowns, blinks out of his fantasy and focuses on the shockingly white ceiling overhead. Continues staring until the vodka lazy cogs of his brain comprehend what’s just been said. And who’s just said it.

 

 _Shit_.

 

The speed with which he sits up would make Steve Rogers proud, but it only makes his head spin. He blurts a strained laugh even though he’s flushing hot at the suggestion in Sebastian’s tone.

 

Only, Sebastian isn’t laughing. Nobody is laughing. Not even Anthony who barely stops laughing to breathe. There’s a teasing smile curving its way onto Sebastian’s lips and Chris can feel the scrutiny of Mackie’s eyes on him.

 

Suddenly the world’s edges are a shade sharper than they were a moment ago, the air a few degrees warmer.

 

 “What?!”

 

He flinches, but yes, that is his own voice; too loud for the cosy, darkened room which feels oddly intimate, and too puzzled to sound calm.

 

He knows the shock on his face must be hilarious. But Sebastian still isn’t laughing. Instead, he tips his head to the side and his smile widens to a wicked grin. “You heard.”

 

Yeah, he heard. Of course he did. He heard, and he hopes he’s gonna be able to hide how turned on he is by the mere thought.

 

Waiting for the punch line, Chris watches with huge eyes as Sebastian slinks closer across the floor. He’s reminded of Sebastian’s filmography. Every role and every film he studied, promising himself that it was just to familiarize himself with Sebastian’s acting style. He’d only need to watch each film once. At least that’s what he told himself…right before he hit play and watched again.

 

Sebastian makes a come hither gesture with his finger and it takes Chris a second too long to realize that he’s summoning the bottle and not him. Another nervous laugh bubbles up in his chest, but it catches in his throat. Because Sebastian still looks serious, and from what Chris can tell by Mackie’s silence, he’s not the only one that thinks so.

 

“Sebastian?” His voice is a touch shakier than he’d like, but ten times steadier than he feels. _Sebastian? Help me out here? What’s going on? Please tell me you’re serious. Fuck._

 

“I’m thirsty.”

 

Sebastian’s voice is pitched low, eyes smoldering and his smile is slow and dirty. Fuck, indeed. He cautiously passes the bottle down. Warily, because any minute now the terrible twosome will look at each other and roar with laughter because Chris is so gullible.

 

Sebastian takes the bottle in his beautiful fingers, tips his head back and lets the liquid flow into his mouth, eyes fixed on Chris the whole time. Chris’ eyes flick down to red lips, parted and stunning where they’re wrapped around the neck of the bottle, and he lets out an embarrassingly obvious, shuddering sigh.

 

Sebastian lowers the bottle and grins in delight then licks the last of the Vodka from his full lower lip. Chris swallows against the sudden dryness in his mouth, whole body tensing as Sebastian reaches his free hand out towards his leg, thumb hovering for a few seconds - just to make Chris’ breath catch - before tracing the inseam of his jeans from knee to mid-thigh.

 

“What? You’re doing this now?!” Mackie exclaims, and Chris jumps a foot in the air.

 

In that moment he’d completely forgotten Mackie was there. And that’s the point at which he realizes that he’s too caught up, too far gone, because he just can’t find it within himself to care. Skin practically crawling with want, he couldn’t give a flying fuck what Mackie thinks of all of this, of the absurdity and obscenity of it. If he can just lose himself in the brightness of Sebastian’s eyes, he can imagine a different scenario. One in which Sebastian genuinely wants him, and not the Vodka bottle.  

 

 “Right now?!” Mackie demands. “In _front_ of me?”

 

“Nah,” Seb smirks. And just when Chris thinks that this is the point when Sebastian backs out with a laugh, he continues. “Spectator seat’s gonna cost you whiskey.”

 

Mackie does laugh then, but Sebastian’s eyes are back on Chris which makes it impossible to focus on anything else. Through the effort is takes to keep the hunger and hope from his face, and the pounding of blood in his ears, he can vaguely make out Mackie’s voice.

 

“Thanks for the invite, but I think we need ice. I’m going to go get ice. The kind of ice they have like two states across.”

 

“Counties,” Sebastian corrects without ever lifting his eyes from Chris. “In England its counties.”

 

“Right. Counties. Maybe I’ll even need to visit a neighboring _country_.”

 

Sebastian’s thumb is still pressed into his inner thigh. Ignoring Mackie completely, Chris’ wide disbelieving eyes track the slow journey of Sebastian’s fingers which lazily skim a path up Chris’ leg, sending shivers along his spine and heat curling low in his belly.

 

“Honestly, it was just an excuse to leave, but maybe we do actually need ice.” Mackie’s voice is a little teasing, a little smug – like he could’ve called this – and he indicates vaguely at Chris. Chris assumes from this that he probably looks as wrecked as he feels, but he still. doesn’t. care.

 

Mackie’s movement as he gets up and collects his phone and wallet goes mostly unnoticed. It’s not Mackie’s parting comment - “Have fun” – but the sound of the door clicking shut and locking that sobers Chris. Only slightly. Not enough to move - never enough to move - but his brain starts working overtime to make sense of the fact that Sebastian is implausibly - but undoubtedly -  sprawled at his heals.

 

He should stop this. It means something to him and nothing to Sebastian. He should move for the sake of his own heart and because he doesn’t trust himself to hide how much he wants this. Has wanted this for years.

 

But it’s so much easier to do something you really want, but are afraid to do, when you can pretend you’re only doing it for reasons other than your own desires. Stupidity, drunkenness, a dare; like responsibilities sliding off sloping shoulders.

 

So no, he won’t move and will never stop this. True to form, Chris’ dick thinks this is the most phenomenal decision he’s ever made.

 

As though sensing the shift in Chris’ focus, Sebastian spreads his hand wide, palm hot and flat against his skin. It’s both too close and too far away from where Chris really wants it. Even if Chris _did_ want to stop this, his body felt fused to the sofa, voice frozen in his throat.

 

He looks from the hand to Sebastian’s lips, which curl into an irresistible smile. As if he needed coercing, there’s nothing more compelling than any one of Sebastian Stan’s many smiles. His pupils are blown black under lowered lashes as he positions himself in front of Chris’ legs like its nothing. He nudges Chris’ knees wider with the backs of his hands and presses up until there’s no space left between them.

 

Chris fidgets, achingly aroused. Sebastian regards him with one eyebrow raised then his eyes drop to Chris’ lap, slipping steady hands back up his legs. He skirts Chris’ throbbing dick to grip his waistband, fingers tucking under it and brushing Chris’ skin and tickling in the best of ways.

 

The room feels hotter, smaller somehow, and darker too. Mouth hanging open, Chris watches Sebastian as he leans forward, lips hovering over the bulge in Chris’ jeans. His eyes are still locked with Chris’, intent and with a hint of a question.  Maybe he’s wondering if Chris will stop him. Chris won’t.

 

Ignoring the too quick thud of his heart, Chris finds himself reaching out and sliding a hand against Sebastian’s cheek, resting his palm gently against strands of silky hair. It’s a tumbling, a crashing down, a slipping away of all the will power that had kept him from bridging every inch that’s ever worked itself between them.

 

And Sebastian takes it for the consent it is, mouthing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the fabric of his jeans. The sight and the pressure and the heat of it makes Chris drop his head back and groan. It feels so good, so fucking good.

 

There’s no pretending now. The fuse is lit and there’s no going back. Not now that his heart’s on his sleeve and there are two graceful hands slowly popping the buttons of his jeans. Slowly, so slowly; one, then the next, then the next, until Sebastian can see the black of his boxer briefs and can drag a finger along the line of his dick.

 

Sebastian grabs two handfuls of material, jeans and underwear at the same time, and _tugs._ Raising his hips slightly brings Sebastian’s mouth closer. Tantalizingly close to his cock, which out of the confines of his clothes is desperate and already leaking. It throbs a dirty echo of his heartbeat.

 

Chris swears he hears Sebastian gasp before he dips his head to rub his face up against Chris’ erection, the tip bumping the dip in Seb’s chin. Clean shaven cheeks feel like cool silk on his heated skin. Sebastian’s hand finally teases its way to where Chris wants it, _needs_ it, making him dizzy when Sebastian rubs a thumb in a smooth circle over the head of his dick. Palms over it, then trails his fingers up the length of him as though familiarizing himself, and then does it again with a hungry look on his face.

 

And then Sebastian’s laying little kitten licks against the side of his cock, and up to flick against the head. Its so, _so good_. Chris instinctively goes to grab strong shoulders but he doesn’t know if that’s allowed so he changes destination mid-movement, flinging his hands over his head to grip the back of the sofa instead.

 

While Sebastian teases him with tongue and mouth, Chris doesn’t try to hold on to the disappointment that he can’t just hold him, claim him, and show Seb how much he wants it. He just lets the relief and pleasure relax his muscles till he’s useless and treacle slow. Until he doesn’t care that Sebastian’s only doing this for a bet, a bit of fun, or that Chris’ heart will be broken the moment this ends.

 

When he feels Sebastian let out a shaky breath against his sensitized skin, he meets his eyes, feels the frenzied pause as though it’s in the air around them. Then Sebastian parts his lips and slips the head of Chris’ dick into his mouth.

 

Every muscle in Chris’ body tenses, his back arches, and he’s completely out of control because he feels _incredible_. It’s only Sebastian’s firm grip on his waist that keeps his hips from snapping up into the welcoming heat, but his restraint wasn’t needed anyway because Sebastian slides down on him willingly, making molten pleasure coil urgently in Chris’ belly, up his spine and into every piece of him.

 

 _“Seb_ ,” he moans.

 

It’s the first word that’s been uttered since Mackie left. It’s not that Chris doesn’t love saying his name, will whisper it in wonder and will hiss it desperately, but he also wants to plead with words that sound like pillow talk.  So _there’s_ the line he won’t cross; even though he’s wrapped in Sebastian’s sinful mouth and moaning without regret, he won’t let himself utter endearments. Self preservation has to start somewhere.

 

Lips swollen and slick, the corners of Sebastian’s mouth lift and his eyes sparkle with what Chris knows would be a dazzling smile if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. If it wasn’t otherwise occupied with Chris’ dick. And doesn’t that realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he bites out in awe.

 

Sebastian is truly beautiful and Chris drinks in the sight. On his knees, mouth plush and wet, head moving back and forth slowly, cool palm moving to curl around the base of Chris’ dick. And God, he’s not frightened to show how much he’s enjoying himself; he’s practically writhing.

 

Chris knows that if he doesn’t look away now then this will all be over too soon. Way too soon, because he’s waited too long, wanted just as much, and loved far longer.

 

When he throws his head up, trying to get control of himself, it’s not the reprieve he needed. All he can see is a wall of glass and the two of them reflected back at him. The window throws back every detail and the sight has him grinding his hips in a frantic circle. A little deeper into Sebastian’s mouth. Sebastian makes a choked off sound but takes it like he’s being doing this is whole life. Maybe he has. Nothing would surprise Chris tonight.

 

The window’s huge. It’s completely full of night because they haven’t closed the curtains, so they’re discoverable to anyone who happens to be looking at the right angle. He still won’t stop this. His toes are curling into the plush carpet, fingers flexing against the sofa cushions.

 

His eyes are drawn back to Sebastian as soon as he feels cool hands slip under his Henley. They push up with fingers splayed as though Sebastian wants as much skin on skin as possible. He soothes over Chris’ abdomen, pecs, trailing down his sides.

 

When Sebastian suddenly sucks hard, the pleasure frazzles his brain enough that his hips stutter up too far, too deep into Seb’s throat, and Chris panics.

 

“Sorry,” he gasps. “God…Seb, I’m sorry. I-”

 

His shaking hands are cupping around the gorgeous line of Sebastian’s jaw, clumsily petting, trying to apologize. But Sebastian is gripping his hips tightly so he can’t pull away. And God fucking damn it, he’s moaning and grinding his own hips down into the friction of Chris shin.

 

“Shit, Seb,” he says breathlessly. “Fuck, you’re amazing…”

 

Sebastian’s eyes flutter shut and he moans again, low and dirty, vibrations thrumming through Chris’ skin. Chris thrusts up again, controlled but not having the wherewithal to tease, and slips into the tight channel of Sebastian’s throat. Muscles clench and flutter around him.

 

Sebastian grabs his wrists abruptly and Chris wonders if he’s done something wrong. Gone too far. But Sebastian’s not pulling him away, he’s urging him closer; pushing Chris’ hands to his head almost desperately. Like maybe he wants Chris to control this for him. Oh, fuck. Yes, that he can do. Gladly and enthusiastically, because somehow just the _thought_ makes it even _better._

 

It _is_ hard to think at all when sparks are going off behind his eyelids and he’s both boneless and rigid at once. He just rocks desperately up into that mouth, hot and wet and willing, and feels the pleasure _everywhere._

Sebastian’s hands have wandered. They’re soothing up the backs of his thighs, over the rounds of his ass and stroking either side of Chris’ lower back, encouraging the rock of his hips. Sebastian’s tongue is velvet on his skin. So much sensation he can hardly breathe. A groan trips of Chris’ lips, mingling in the air with Sebastian’s stifled moans, and the sound of slick wet suction.

 

As hazy and unfocused as his vision is, Sebastian is vivid technicolor.

 

Chris rakes his fingers through chocolate brown hair, clasping a hand around the nape of his neck. The touch is light at first, then the urge to grip hard is too much to resist. And Sebastian is alternately wriggling and rolling his body, rubbing his hardness against Chris’ leg.

 

“Sebastian.” It’s the smallest utterance, but its meaning is immeasurable.

 

He whimpers, feeling the familiar pull in his stomach, the tightening of his muscles, and he comes suddenly with a gasp and a tremor. A lightening punch to his core, setting off millions of sparks through every nerve. Stardust and glitter explode behind his eyelids, and he folds up around Sebastian, cradling his head reverently in both hands, spilling into Sebastian’s waiting mouth.

 

As Sebastian soothes him through the aftershocks, he hears his own small sigh of a laugh; an amazed sort of sound. It shatters everything.

 

Still heaving lungfuls of air, his eyes fly open, muscles so tight it hurts. He stares down at Sebastian in shock and fear, and he just smiles back up at him. It’s paradoxically smug and hesitant. Despite himself, Chris feels relief easing the tension in his body and finds himself smiling back tentatively.

 

Seb holds his eyes then pointedly looks down at Chris’ lap. And then because Chris stares at him in confusion, he does it again. Chris follows Sebastian’s eyes to his own naked dick before cursing and rushing to tuck himself back in his jeans.

 

Feeling naked, open and like his heart is out there for Sebastian to see, the insecurity races in. And maybe this _was_ just a bet after all. He’s wished it into something else, but Sebastian’s just done what he said he would, never given any promises of more.

 

 _Deal._ The word had been spoken so clearly from Sebastian’s lips, but had he said it begrudgingly? Chris couldn’t remember, mind too scattered to think; he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought if he could.  In his panic, he can’t pull the images of Sebastian enjoying himself to the front of his mind, and wonders if he ever saw it at all.

 

“Chris-” Seb starts, but Chris can’t stand to hear his pity, so he cuts him off by pushing the Vodka bottle into his hands.

 

“Here,” he says, and laughs miserably at his own expense. “You earned it.” He regrets saying it immediately. The very moment the words tumble out of his mouth like marbles, clattering to the floor and echoing. He didn’t mean to demean this. He’s not really bitter, he’s so much fuller, enhanced by the intimacy he got the chance to share with the man he’s hopelessly in love with.

 

Sebastian pulls back, face shutting down immediately. Chris thinks it’s his hopeful heart that sees disappointment and hurt, because his now blank expression is impenetrable.

 

The light seems to have flickered out of his eyes like a flame starved of oxygen, and Chris wants to make this right, to be honest, but his thoughts form, shatter, and he’s just coming up empty handed.

 

Sebastian stands up, a little wobbly, and very hard. Chris blinks. He’s such a jerk – he didn’t _think_ about Sebastian’s pleasure. A poorly conceived thought flies into his head and he acts on it without proofing it for stupidity, clumsily reaching for Sebastian’s belt like he might return the favor and miraculously save this awful moment.

 

Sebastian jumps away from Chris’ advances like he’s been burnt.

 

“Don’t Chris,” he says firmly, voice low and rough.

 

Chris frowns, but he knew this would happen. Knew he’d fuck up and go too far and care too much. He’s so lost he’s dizzy with it, body so tense it hurts. He can’t watch Sebastian leave because it just tightens the vice-like squeeze to his chest, but he flinches with his whole body when Sebastian places the Vodka bottle on the glass table with a decisive clink. He reacts exactly the same when he hears the ironically tiny click of the door; a heart breaking understatement.

 

Chris doesn’t make it to the lonely bed he’d tidied earlier. He sits in the ruin of cushions, thinking that a few hours earlier and on a different sofa, he was warm in the light of Sebastian’s sun.

 

**Notes:**

  * @elenaamerican has really kindly let me link to her amazing Evanstan art, which is the perfect visual counterpart to this story. [Check it out here](http://elenaamerican.tumblr.com/post/150635513018/hello). Its amazing!!
  * I know I’ve left this on a cliffhanger and I’m sorry but there will be more.
  * I'm [Little-Lottie](http://little-lottie.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr. Please feel free to say hi!



 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry for the wait in posting the second part of this story! I’ve been writing updates for both this and a Steve/Bucky story this week.
> 
> I have updated the tags and changed the rating as it would appear that I've written 7,000 words of smut (well angst and smut)! I’m not sure whether to say _sorry_ or _you’re welcome_ *runs and hides*
> 
> The ending is incredibly self indulgent, because I do love a happy fluffy ending. I’m actually very temped to write a follow on story because there’s so much I had to edit out because it didn’t fit quite right and/or felt a bit premature, but I’ll wait and see if you guys like this one first.
> 
> @elenaamerican has really kindly let me link to her amazing Evanstan art, which is the perfect visual counterpart to this story. Check it out at the link in the end notes. Its amazing!! /li>

~

 

“Evans, open the damn door.”

 

Chris cringes, inhales sharply and slowly cracks an eye open. Almost immediately he’s slamming it shut against a villainous splinter of morning light that’s bouncing off the mirror straight at him. He buries his head in the cushion and tries to blink out violent sun spots from the inside of his eyelids.

 

Frowning, he attempts to unhear the sound of Mackie’s voice out in the hallway - too close and too loud – as his brain reluctantly starts to come round to the idea of consciousness. He guesses he must have finally fallen asleep then. His body has a way of shutting itself down when it’s spent, but only after hours of feeling simultaneously disconnected and like his skin is too tight, air so heavy around him that feels like he might crush under the weight of it.

 

This morning his head hurts, his heart aches and his hand’s bleeding where he’d slammed the vodka bottle down too hard. It had smashed into tiny, scathingly metaphorical fragments. He’d picked up the shards in his hands; he didn’t want to bother the hotel staff, and it was his mess to clean up anyhow.

 

He wakes a little more with every insistent knock on his door, but there’s no dawning realization or slap in the face epiphany where memories of the night before flood back to him. Because while he may not remember falling asleep, he remembers everything else with screaming clarity. Could never forget, even in that peaceful limbo between sleep and wakefulness.

 

“Get out here and sort this shit out.”

 

Chris groans. As muffled as it is by the door and distance between them, Mackie’s voice is theatrically loud. There’s a breakfast gathering planned, and it’s possible that Mackie plans to drag him to it, but Chris is almost certain that’s not why he’s here.

 

On one hand it’s a relief, because he has no intention of going down to breakfast - he’s not sure he’s going to be able to leave this sofa at all - but on the other hand, if Mackie’s here to talk about last night then, inadvertently or not, it’s going to make Chris feel even more of a heartbroken disaster than he does already.

 

“Chris, now! Or maybe you wanna talk about it through the door? Oh, ok then-”

 

Chris scrambles up and sprints to the door before Mackie says something incriminating that the whole hotel will hear. It’s bad enough that Chris treated Sebastian the way he did last night without him also being the subject of potentially career destroying rumors.

 

When Chris throws the door open Mackie almost instantly shoves a plate full of bacon under his nose.  Trying to control a grimace when the smell makes his stomach recoil, Chris guides the plate away with his injured hand.

 

“Ouch,” Mackie says with a sympathetic wince.

 

Chris looks at his hand with its clumsy row of dispassionately self-applied plasters. “It’s not too bad, just a cut.”

 

“Not that, man,” Mackie says. “I mean…this,” he clarifies, helpfully indicating Chris’ entire body. “You look like shit.”

 

Chris blinks but doesn’t argue. The mirror was too busy throwing lightning into his eyes for him to have caught a glimpse of his appearance, but if he looks anywhere near as brittle as he feels, Mackie’s almost definitely right.

 

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs out.

 

He hadn’t showered last night, had eaten hardly anything and had slept even less. His night was minute after minute of staring unseeing into the darkness, chest fluttering with fierce black butterflies and their dark little hearts and unnaturally frantic wing beats. His limbs are aching from dozing cramped on the sofa, and he just wants to go back there and hole up for as long as he can possibly get away with before they have to board a flight and he’s forced to face the day.

 

They stare at each other over the threshold, Chris stubbornly refusing to mention the unmentionable.

 

Mackie narrows his eyes like he knows exactly what Chris is doing. “You’re missing breakfast.”

 

“I’m not coming.”

 

Mackie sniggers. “Good to hear,” he says with barely concealed amusement. “I’m pretty sure that’s how all this shit started.”

 

“Very funny,” Chris mutters and ushers Mackie into the room before he says anything else about Chris’ sex life in that booming voice of his.

 

Mackie makes himself comfortable in one of the armchairs, and hands Chris the bacon which is immediately relegated to the coffee table.

 

“I wasn’t serious when I said that, okay. I wasn’t trying to make a pass.” He’s being defensive and he knows it – he just doesn’t want Anthony to think he took advantage of their friend. “I was just messing around.”

 

Mackie grins at him. “Yeah well, last I saw you were about to mess in your pants.”

 

Chris lets out a strangled groan, leans against the back of the sofa and pushes a throw cushion into his face. If he doesn’t, concierge ten floors down are going to hear his despair. He’s bone weary and miserable, and this impasse – while probably amusing to Anthony – is tearing at his heart.

 

When he needs air, which at that moment he’s reluctant to grant himself, he swears. At Mackie, at himself, at the shards of bottle still in a bowl on the side of the kitchenette.

 

“I should have just given him the bottle.”

 

“No,” Mackie corrects firmly. “You should have taken your chance when he landed in your Goddamn lap. Then you should have told him that you’ve been in love with him for years. Friends don’t lie to each other.”

 

“You knew.” Chris isn’t surprised.

 

Mackie gives him a withering look but his face sobers quickly when he quietly asks, “What went wrong?”

 

“I’m an idiot.”

 

“True story. But what went wrong?”

 

Chris throws himself back into the sofa, then thinks better of it when all he can see is Sebastian on his knees for him. He shifts onto the other armchair, side eying Mackie and daring him to call him out on it.

 

“Hand me the bacon,” Mackie says instead.

 

“Have you seen him?”

 

“Yes,” Mackie says, punctuating the word with a swift punch to Chris’ bicep as he passes the plate over. “You deserved that by the way.”

 

Chris wouldn’t dispute that. “He told you?”

 

“No, but he looked miserable.” Chris’ heart sinks further. “Come on, tell me. What did you do?”

 

Chris ignores him.

 

“Did you pretend it was just a friend helping a friend?”

 

Chris almost laughed, because that would have been so much better than the actuality.

 

“Did you act like nothing happened?”

 

He’d happily take that explanation too. “Let’s just say yes to both of those things.”

 

Anthony leans forward and punches his arm again. “Let’s not if it’s a lie.”

 

Chris winces then sucks in a breath. “I may have treated him like a prostitute?” He felt like if he phrased it as a question, then he stood at least a chance of being wrong. He knew better.

 

Mackie laughs, surprised. “Jesus, I seriously doubt you did. Why has everything got to be such a big deal with you two. You’re over dramatizing it. Come on, get changed.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You’re coming downstairs to breakfast. He’ll be there.”

 

Chris looks at him like he’s crazy. “Then I’m definitely not going.”

 

Mackie rolls his eyes and gets up, wiping his greasy bacon fingers on his jeans. “You know what? Fine.”

 

In hollow triumph Chris goes to slouch down in the chair and shut his eyes.

 

“Stay here,” he adds in an irritated tone. “I can’t stand another minute of watching you two pine after each other anyway.”

 

Chris froze in his movement and whipped his head up.

 

“What?”

 

His brain’s misfiring, heart stuttering in his chest. He must be wrong, but he could have sworn Mackie said…

 

“What do you mean, _‘what’_?” Mackie huffs. “It gets boring. Yeah, at first it was fun. I was like that match making chick in the Jane Austen novel-”

 

“Emma,” Chris says automatically. His whole mind’s flying over and over Mackie’s words looking for something he might have missed, some reason to not be as hopeful as his whole being wants to feel right now.

 

“Yeah, Emma –”

 

“Wait,” he interrupts urgently, thinking he might explode at any minute. “You just said that we’re pining after each other.”

 

He wrenches himself up and grabs at Mackie’s arms. “Like…did you really mean _both_ of us?” Mackie stares at him and Chris’ wants to scream with impatience. “It’s what you said! You said _‘pining’_ …and _‘each other’_?”

 

“Yes,” he replies very slowly like Chris is being monumentally stupid.

 

It’s hard to think through the chaos of half finished thoughts in his brain, but Chris can see that he probably has been an idiot, if the signs were there and he didn’t notice. But when  it comes to something like this, something as important as this, very little sense will break through the thick skin of his anxiety.

 

“This isn’t news,” Mackie continues.

 

“It’s breaking news!” Chris yells. “ _‘Not news’_ would be _, ‘Chris has been, and will always be, pining’_ , and, _‘Seb was unrequiting but tolerant, and is now incredibly pissed’_ ”

 

“That didn’t make any sense, but if you’re trying to ask me if Sebastian wants to fuck your brains out, the answer is yes.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re certain?”

 

“As certain as if I heard the words myself. Which I did. Almost. His phrasing was more colorful. I’m gonna envy your sex life when you two work this out.”

 

Chris shakes his head. Tries to shake the implications out of his mind too, but there are some images there he never wants to get rid of.

 

“What exactly did he say he wanted?” he says with curiosity and the sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, he’s allowed to know.

 

“What does it matter?” Mackie scoffs. “Like you’d ever say no to him about anything.”

 

Chris rolls his eyes. Mackie can’t talk; he’s just as indulgent with Sebastian as Chris is.

 

“Why did you never think to tell me this before?”

 

“You’ve never fucked up like this before.” He walks back towards the door, beckoning Chris. “And you’re supposed to be a grown up.”

 

Chris feels like he’s traded in his black butterflies for tiny golden ones. “Give me ten minutes,” he shouts over his shoulder as he sprints to the shower, grinning.

 

~

 

In the elevator six minutes later, Chris is bouncing on his toes and driving Mackie crazy. When his phone shrieks in his pocket, the noise shocks him from his impatient staring contest with the button console; too many bright lights, not clicking out fast enough.

 

“It’s Scarlett,” he mutters glancing at the text. “She wants to know where we are. Says everyone is there.”  
  
“That’s because _everyone_ is there,” Mackie says, picking up on Chris’ inflection and hidden meaning whether he wanted him to or not.

 

He scuffs his toe against the floor. He’s nervous. Even if Sebastian wanted him once, what are the chances he still does after the way Chris acted towards him. But he is hopeful now, and a sliver of hope is more than he ever expected to feel.

 

When the elevator chirps a cheery _ding_ , Chris bursts through the sliding doors when there’s barely enough room for his Captain America shoulders, only to find himself face to face with Sebastian. Propelled by momentum, there’s an awful second where Chris thinks he’ll actually pile straight into him, but he just about manages to stop with a step in hand.

 

“Hey,” he breathes.

 

Sebastian blinks. “Hey.” He stares back at Chris unmoving, holding his takeout cup in front of him like a shield.

 

Mackie looks between the two of them and coughs deliberately.

 

“So…breakfast,” Sebastian says quietly, thumb indicating the breakfast hall behind him.

 

Chris goes to say something, but it catches in his throat. This wasn’t the perfectly smooth interaction he’d been planning in the elevator.

 

Sebastian sucks in his lips and turns slowly. He follows for a few steps, until the numbness fizzles out and he realizes he’s fucking up again. He stops in his tracks because he knows that if he lets Sebastian go now, he’ll never get him back. Ever.

 

“Stop.”

 

Sebastian does, instantly, and turns to him with wide shocked eyes. Mackie slows to a stop next to him, even though it’s apparent he wants to keep walking and never look back.

 

“Umm…no, sorry. I mean, Seb I-” He takes a deep breath, chooses a serious voice. “Sebastian”

 

Mackie unsuccessfully attempts to stifle a laugh next to him, and its distracting enough that Chris turns and glares.

 

With just enough grace to look guilty, he mutters, “Sorry, man! You sound like you’re about to ask him to marry you.”

 

Chris glowers a few moments longer then looks back to Sebastian and clears his throat. “Can I have a word with you? Please?” He pushes Mackie in the arm forcefully because he won’t take a subtle hint. “Alone.”

 

Sebastian stares back at him in what can only be described as horror.

 

“Or not?” he mutters quickly.

 

“For fucks sake.” Mackie nudges Chris out of the way and opens a door a little way up the hall. He shepherds the both of them towards it, ignores their disbelieving stares, and shoves them in.

 

As he stumbles across the threshold, Chris sees Paul Rudd stick his head around the breakfast hall door, like he’s been sent to scout them out. Just as the door swings closed, sealing Sebastian in the same room with Chris – along with his ridiculous heart and even more ridiculous social skills - he faintly hears Paul ask what’s going. As the door clicks shut Mackie is saying something about looking for ice.

 

~

 

They stand, all shuffling feet and held breaths, for a handful of long, drawn out moments. Sebastian is avoiding eye contact and forcing a faint smile, which isn’t as bad as a punch in the face, but it’s not far off.

 

They seem to be in one of the hotel’s corporate function rooms. It’s bright, bland and unforgiving, and Chris really hopes there isn’t anyone behind one of these screens, innocently setting up a PowerPoint presentation or preparing meeting notes, because they’re going to regret it.

 

Sebastian carefully places his coffee cup on one of the boardroom style tables and gazes at it absently, flicking his thumb against the edge of the plastic lid. Fidgeting. And Chris is about to launch into his carefully prepared confession when Sebastian notices his injured hand.

 

“What happened?” he says, moving to Chris and grasping his wrist gently so that he can inspect the mess of plasters.

 

“It’s just a cut.”

 

“What did you cut it on?”

 

“Some glass,” he says vaguely. He doesn’t want to bring up the Vodka bottle, but after a second Sebastian looks up at him, eyes getting bigger with understanding.

 

“Oh,” he says quietly, still cradling Chris’ wrist in both of his slender hands. His tongue flicks out, nervously wetting pretty pink lips.

 

Chris shakes his head quickly, furious with himself because he’s made Sebastian hurt, _again,_ but he won’t let Sebastian take the brunt of his incompetence again.

 

“Seb-”

 

“Chris, don’t look like that,” Sebastian says in a low voice. “I know what you’re going to say, but don’t. I overreacted last night. I knew it wasn’t…”

 

He cut himself off, going to fiddle with the hair tie that’s no longer on his wrist before remembering why he doesn’t wear it anymore and raking a hand through his short hair. He seems to steel himself, and starts again. “I knew what it was. I had no right to storm out like that. It was what it was.”

 

“Seb, look, I need to apologize. I should never have behaved like that. And I wanted to say…shit I’m so bad at this.”

 

He wants to be clear, so clear that Sebastian doesn’t have to guess. He knows what it’s like in their business when you have to sort the actor from the person, sift the real from the lie.  Chris has made so many mistakes he’s not sure he can fix them all, but he does know where to start.

 

“I didn’t want _it._ I wanted _you.”_

Sebastian opens his mouth in astonishment.

 

“Well maybe _it_ too...I guess that was obvious.” He could hit himself for being such an idiot, but he presses on because Sebastian needs to hear this. And Chris needs to say it. It’s this before anything else, _above_ everything else. “So yeah, but _with_ you. Because of you. Or, you know…just you.”

 

He sets his teeth tight up against each other and bites down against the urge to keep talking. He’s said enough; it’s inept but it’s raw and honest, and while it may not be enough, it’s all he can offer.

 

Sebastian looks at him, brow furrowed, uncertain. “Just me?”

 

“Yeah,” he sighs, the words coming easy now, like all he ever had to do was give voice to them. “For a long time.”

 

Sebastian nods slowly and clears his throat. Then he smiles, like dawn, and chuckles quietly. Incredulously. His eyes are luminous in the bright lights, crystal clear and vibrant like sunshine shimmering on a lake.

 

“You know, I don’t actually like Vodka.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I’m really not that bothered about Vodka,” he repeats with a beautifully sly smile. Chris forces himself to breathe, allows himself to crack open his heart to hope. “Chris? Do you understand where I’m going with this?”

 

Chris starts grinning, “I think so.”

 

Sebastian shrugs sweetly and Chris just wants to hold him, tight. “I thought it was obvious,” he says with a self deprecating expression, eyes peering up at Chris through his lowered lashes.

 

Heart thudding in anticipation, Chris moves closer. Half a step is enough to reach out, which he does with trembling hands. He reverently draws his fingers along Sebastian’s jaw line, then rests his thumb in the little dip of his chin. Sebastian’s breath is warm on Chris’ face, coffee and sweetness, his smile a little shy. They’re so close that Chris hardly has to move at all to brush their lips together, to press them to Sebastian’s full, soft lips.

 

It’s tentative at first, then firmer as Chris cups his hand around the back of Sebastian’s neck and pulls him in, lips meeting again in a wet slide. This time it’s less experimental and more churning need, and Sebastian’s opening right up for him, eager and needy, a little moan passing his lips. Sebastian palms against Chris’ jaw line, raking his nails through his beard and lets Chris lead the kiss.

 

He clasps Sebastian’s biceps to pull him closer, but stops because as tempting as it is to lift Sebastian up onto the receptive looking conference table, he doesn’t want them to be interrupted.

 

“Stop. No…”

 

Sebastian does, but he doesn’t look worried like he had earlier, he’s waiting, eyes wide and dark. His face flushed with desire. Then his eyebrow quirks up, obviously amused. “No as in, no? Or no as in, actually yes?”

 

He’s teasing and Chris loves it. Loves how he can breathe again, laugh again. Chris takes a second before replying, distracted by long, dark lashes sweeping against sculpted cheekbones.

 

“Yes, forever yes, but not here.”

 

Sebastian takes a shaky step back and Chris instinctively throws his arms forward in case he trips.

 

“Your room?”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Then thinks, remembers something which makes him laugh. He’d tidied his room last night for just this sort of eventuality.

 

Sebastian laughs, full and happy, because Chris must have said something similar out loud.

 

“Would it help if I pretend I didn’t hear that?”

 

Chris cringes. “Yeah, if you would.”

~

 

They leave separately and Chris races to his room first. He forgets how uncooperatively slow the elevator is and only remembers when he’s tapping his foot and grumbling at it, starting to wonder whether its torturous sluggishness is deliberately trying to break him. But he can’t be too annoyed because he’s never felt so high. Never been so scared to embrace it either.

 

He doesn’t have to wait long once he’s in his room. Sebastian’s obviously taken the stairs and is knocking, stealthy quiet. Chris opens the door without hesitation, lust flooding his senses. Before Sebastian’s irresistible smile can creep fully onto his lips, he grabs a fistful of white t shirt and drags him over the threshold.

 

Sebastian stumbles through the door and Chris slams it shut, wrapping his free hand around a delicate wrist to keep him off balance. He pushes him back into the door and pins him against it with his whole body. Chris briefly worries that he’s being too rough, but Sebastian is breathing just as hard as he is as their wide eyes drag over each other bodies. They stare open mouthed, the air between them hot and heavy like their desire is vibrating between them, then Sebastian rolls his hips in one silky movement and Chris’ mind scatters.

 

Chris surges forward and kisses him hard and fast then, too turned on to hold back. His tongue flicks out to run along Sebastian’s bottom lip, tasting him and asking for more. Sebastian practically growls, tilts his head for a better angle and melts against him, waiting. Chris won’t make him wait. He licks into his mouth and Sebastian meets him enthusiastically.

 

The desperation he felt last night, the frantic desire to taste those sinfully red, cupid bow lips, was overtaking him now. He wants to make Sebastian feel so good, to forget everyone else and make him want as much as Chris wants. The thought of the night before sobers him slightly, eases him away from the kiss, but only enough to mumble against Sebastian’s mouth, a delicious brush of lips with every word.

 

“Shouldn’t we still be talking about this?”

 

Sebastian’s responding smile is dark and intense, and Chris finds himself leaning in to claim it. It’s Sebastian that keeps the distance between them with a hand to his chest, and smiles, somehow looking affectionate even though his eyes are clouded with lust. “Who says we’re not talking?”

 

As though to illustrate his point, he bites his perfect teeth into his bottom lip and gyrates his hips again. A slow, purposeful roll that has Chris snapping his eyes shut and moaning helplessly. Yes, he’d concede that this is a perfectly good way to communicate and he forcibly shuts down the last of his uncertainty.

 

When Sebastian relaxes back against the wall, Chris’ hips chase the friction, his body helplessly rocking as he seals their lips again. His fumbling hands tremble on Sebastian’s fly, intending to unzip and be rid as quickly as possible but he’s suddenly distracted by the hard bulge underneath. And he has to look, has to watch the trail of his fingers up and down the denim covered hardness. Because Sebastian is so hard for him, and his eyelids are fluttering closed at the touch and his hips are flexing as though he’s desperate to buck up into the pressure of Chris’ palm.

 

Chris can’t help but grin proudly, letting the fingers of his other hand explore Sebastian’s hard chest, pushing up under his shirt. He breaks the kiss to breathe, but the air gets stuck when all he sees are Sebastian’s eyes blown black, pools of onyx with the thinnest ring of the brightest blue.

 

“I wanted you naked,” Chris breathes. “Last night, in Mackie’s room.” He probably didn’t need to qualify quite so much, but he’s not leaving anything to get lost in translation ever again. “I just couldn’t think of a good enough excuse to ask.”

 

“You don’t need an excuse.”

 

Sebastian gently eases Chris back with two hands on his chest, giving himself room, Chris’ hand dropping away between them. He holds his gaze then slowly peels his shirt off, revealing soft skin and a perfectly toned torso. Bare and just begging to be touched.

 

“Like this?” Sebastian says, his tone teasing.

 

Chris can’t stop looking, heart thumping with delight when he realizes that he can; he can look all he likes and Sebastian won’t mind. Wants it, even.

 

“Yeah,” Chris replies, voice husky and low. “Like everything.”

 

“I wanted you naked too.” His voice is equally low, but rich like velvet and cream. “I thought maybe if I pushed your shirt up enough, I could imagine you weren’t wearing it at all.”

 

His mind skips to memories of Sebastian sprawled at his feet, hand reaching up, under clothing, and stroking, fingers splayed. Remembers the warmth of Sebastian’s mouth on him, the tightening of his cheeks and throat around him. The room fills with his own involuntary moan. Just the very thought that Sebastian wanted him last night, maybe even as much as Chris wanted him, is making his already achingly hard dick twitch. He runs the pads of his fingers over Sebastian’s chest, gently at first, feeling the contours of hard muscle, the curve of his pecs, the flat of his stomach, but the dry rub of skin on skin is addictive and soon his hands are flat against the gorgeous body in front of him, insatiable and _everywhere._

He’s very aware that Sebastian has seen his dick - has done a great deal more than seen it - but he’s barely touched Sebastian. He’s certainly making up for it now, with his hands wandering back down to his jeans and releasing the zipper carefully. Sebastian obviously thinks it’s a good idea, because his tugging on Chris’ waistband, popping the button, and together they push each other’s pants down so they fall to the floor.

 

Sebastian pushes a hand into Chris’ hair, scratches his nails through the strands and drags him back in for a dirty, desperate kiss. Between that and the hand Sebastian’s suddenly slipping into his boxers and wrapping around his cock, Chris is seeing double. He has to take a moment to calm himself, even though Sebastian clearly has no intention of letting up, but after the initial shock of pleasure he can function enough to pull his shirt over his head. Sebastian is slowly walking him backwards, hand still stroking him relentlessly with Chris’ pre-come to ease the way.

 

Sebastian navigates him through the suite with quick shuffling steps. When Chris has his back to the bed, Sebastian looks at him with heavy-lidded eyes and tilts his chin up as though he’s saying, _‘go on then._ ’ Chris beams, he wants to pin Sebastian to the bed, wants his hands cuffing Sebastian’s wrists, but that can wait; right now he wants to feel the weight of his body against his. He falls back and pulls Sebastian with him, who giggles in delight.

 

Raising himself on one elbow, Sebastian gazes over his chest, slides his hand up Chris’ side, sensitive skin warming then cooling as he goes. He cups one of Chris’ pecs, splays his hand and squeezes, presses his thumb across the ink under his collarbone, and Chris is awed and thrilled that such a little thing gets Sebastian’s hips rocking into Chris’ thigh.

 

“I had other plans for that Vodka,” Sebastian says, voice low.

 

At the last word, Chris grimaces, hates all of the negative emotions it triggers. Because it was so good, and then he ruined it so badly. But Sebastian actually looks like he’s enjoying the memory. He’s tracing a line from the dip between Chris’ collarbones, slowly dragging it down the valley of his chest, over his upper abdomen and dipping into his belly button. Sebastian sinks his teeth into his lower lip with such urgency, inhales sharply, and it’s like he’s finding whatever he’s thinking about ridiculously hot.

 

He maps the same path with his eyes. “Yeah, it would have tasted better here.”

 

Through the thick curtain of lust that fogs his brain, Chris realizes that Seb had been showing him exactly what his plans had been. And yes, Sebastian licking alcohol from his torso _is_ hot. Chris surges up and gently catches the rest of Sebastian’s lip between his own teeth, easing it out and sucking it gently. “You’ve gotta know what that does to people.”

 

“Biting my lip?”  he asks, affecting an innocent tone when he’s anything but innocent.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice shaky. “Do it again.”

 

Sebastian does, but his smile grows so wide his lip slips passed his teeth anyway. Chris doesn’t care because he’s kissing him again, kissing him and flipping him over, so Sebastian is sprawled on his back, and shifts down the bed to where Seb is straining against his boxers.

 

His chest is heaving, stomach tensing in anticipation, and Chris wants to make him feel so good. He settles on his stomach between strong legs and toys with the waistband of his boxers, looking up to catch wide, lust drunk eyes and swollen, kiss slick lips. Chris hooks his fingers under the material and drags them down. Chris lets out a little gasp, because Sebastian is beautiful here too. Chris takes him in his hand, feels the soft silky skin and squeezes to really appreciate the hardness underneath.

 

He licks his lips, a little slower than necessary but a furtive glance up tells him it’s appreciated, then he wraps his mouth around the head, velvet against his lips, and teases the slit with the tip of his tongue. The room echoes with Sebastian’s moan, and it’s like Chris can feel the pleasure too, white hot shivers rippling down his back.

 

Chris hasn’t done this much, and not since college, but it all comes back to him as easy as breathing. He takes as much of Sebastian is his mouth that he comfortably can, then takes more, and pulls back tracing the vein which jerks a steady pulse under his tongue.

 

“More,” Sebastian gasps. “Please.”

 

Chris wonders if Sebastian remembers his reaction when he begged like this last night. He’s certainly looking at Chris as though trying to gauge is reaction, but Chris is reluctant to move. It’s not that he doesn’t want more, God he wants everything, but Sebastian is so intoxicating it’s a simple torture to move away.

 

Sebastian’s lips curl slowly, temptingly. “Please.”

 

Chris nods quickly, because there’s no point in teasing; if Sebastian doesn’t know by now that Chris would never begrudge him anything, then he’ll find out soon enough.

 

“What, umm…do you..?”

 

Sebastian smirks. “I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I forget I ever thought you didn’t want to. I want you to make up for every day, hour and minute we could have been fucking.”

 

Chris has to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from coming. He clumsily crawls over Sebastian to search for lube and a condom in his wallet. The task is made harder when Sebastian licks one of his nipples, hot suction and a nip of teeth making him yelp and groan in quick succession.

 

When Sebastian realizes he’s found what they need, he keenly releases him, urging him back down with two hands on his shoulders.

 

Chris laughs. “Where’d you leave your self control?”

 

“On Mackie’s sofa. Around the time I got your dick in my mouth.”

 

Chris whimpers, frozen in the motion of lubing his fingers.

 

“Chris, God damn it, hurry up.”

 

“Yeah, fuck, alright.”

 

He sucks Sebastian back into his mouth, savoring the already familiar taste of him, and trips his fingers up the inside of Sebastian’s thigh leaving a messy trail that neither of them care about. When Chris strokes over Sebastian’s entrance, circles the rim with coaxing fingers, Sebastian keens. When he presses the tip of one finger past the tight muscle, Sebastian’s so relaxed and opens up for him so sweetly.

 

Chris still takes it slow, moving his finger carefully because he never wants to hurt Sebastian ever again, in any way. Sebastian’s body continues to relax, welcoming Chris’ finger further, deeper, and Sebastian’s writhing now. He cautiously adds another finger, letting his body adjust and then rocking them, all the while laying little licks of pleasure up Sebastian’s shaft.

 

He’s never gone this far with another man, but he’s not naive, he knows where to search, to find the spot that will make Sebastian melt. When he does, Sebastian’s whole body jerks, and in hindsight he probably shouldn’t have had his lips so far down Sebastian’s dick when he decided to do this, because he’s apparently not as good at deep throating as Seb is. He does manage to keep from panicking, controls the reflex that wants to splutter, and pulls away without letting on that he wasn’t in any way prepared for that.

 

Sebastian wouldn’t have noticed anyway, he’s screwing his eyes shut tight and making little choked off moans that make Chris feel he could come untouched. Safe now he’s released his cock from his lips, he crooks his fingers again. This time Sebastian mutters obscenities into the cool morning air and pushes his hands into Chris’ short hair, grasps as much as he can and pulls, making Chris moan long and loud.

 

Relaxing his body back into the bed, he eyes Chris and tightens his hands experimentally, tugging the strands again. When Chris whines, he laughs breathlessly.

 

“You like that don’t you?”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

And he actually moves his head away a bit to feel the pull again, before he slides back down on Sebastian’s cock, bobs his head a couple of times then moves his attention to the crease of Sebastian’s hip, his thick thigh. Kissing here, nibbling there, nuzzling his beard against the sensitive skin and leaving little red marks like a graffiti tag.

 

And Sebastian is writhing, so impatient, desperate and wanting.

 

“I’m turning over,” he mutters impatiently. He gives Chris enough time to pull back to give him room then he rolls himself over in place, revealing more of that creamy expanse of perfect skin.

 

“Fuck,” Chris whispers, awed and unbelievably turned on. Sebastian responds with a full body grind against the mattress, helplessly muttering his relief when the friction helps satiate his now neglected erection.

 

“Fuck,” Chris grunts roughly. “Fuck. Seb…you look so good.”

 

He just about makes out a muffled sound of bliss, then Sebastian is dipping his spine and arching his hips to draw attention to the sloping curve of his ass. And Chris can’t stop himself grabbing his waist roughly and hauling him up so he’s on his knees. He wants to feel all that skin beneath his hands, all at once. He smooths his hands up the rise of Sebastian’s back, pawing at his legs, over his buttocks and wraps his hands around Sebastian’s hips, thumbs resting in the irresistible dimples at the small of his back.

 

He watches with lust yanking in his stomach as his thumbs trail down, dipping into the curve of Sebastian’s ass and finding that impatient, waiting ring of muscle, slick and ready. He’s so desperate, he almost forgets the condom. And Sebastian must have realized, would have felt hot skin instead of latex when Chris positioned himself, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

Chris remembers just in time. “Shit, sorry baby,” he mutters, shaking his head and the stupid from his brain.

 

Sebastian just whines, a disappointed, hopeless sort of sound, but Chris will make it up to him. He puts the condom on as quickly as he can with shaking, sliding fingers, adding extra lube for good measure. Drawing a steadying breath, he presses against him and enters slowly.

 

It’s so tight, so hot, and he needs to take a second just as much as Sebastian needs the time to adjust. Just a few seconds later Sebastian is turning his head to beg over his shoulder. “Chris,” he whines. “Move, please. Please.”

 

Chris feels like his will power is crumbling inwards, a punch to the chest, and thank God he can rely on muscle memory to know how to move because Sebastian is exploding his rational thought. He presses forward into the fluttering channel, chest heaving even though he’s still in shape, Captain America lung capacity clearly counts for nothing when you have the sexiest man you’ve ever seen trembling with desire underneath you.

 

Chris claps his hand around Sebastian’s stomach, helping hold him up as he eases all the way in, flush against Sebastian’s body. He sucks in lungfuls of air and leans forward to push a hand to the mattress to hold their weight. He places a tender kiss to Sebastian’s shoulder, burning skin under his lips, and mutters tender words that he wouldn’t let himself say just a few hours earlier.

 

“That’s it baby, so good for me. God, you wreck me, you know that?”

 

Palm splayed against Sebastian’s abdomen, he grinds a slow circle and Sebastian arches up. _Hard_. The angle must be good for him, because he’s rocking helplessly, biting into the pillow and letting it absorb all of his needy little noises.

 

Chris pulls back slowly, almost out, dragging the crown of his head against Sebastian’s rim, and then sinks back and Sebastian surges against him, friction and heat and a thrill up his spine which is so fucking good. He thrusts, and Sebastian meets him, over and over, and he can feel the quickening in Sebastian’s breath, the clench of his muscles, against him and around him. Chris is getting close too, but he wants to look in Sebastian’s eyes and watch him come. For him.

 

He opens his mouth to ask Sebastian if he can turn, if they can face each other, but the words sound ridiculous even in his own head, and he feels like Sebastian won’t mind if he just…does it. So he pulls out, trying not to feel too proud of the miserable whimper Sebastian makes at the empty feeling, and manhandles him onto his back. When he looks up, Sebastian’s eyes are wide and desperate, and he’s flinging his hands back to grab at the wooden bars on the headboard.

 

He slides back into the heat of Sebastian’s body in one smooth thrust, into the cradle of Sebastian’s legs which lift and fold around his back, sharp heels digging just above his tailbone to urge him on, faster, deeper.

 

“God, baby, you’re beautiful.”

 

Chris sees and hears Sebastian’s breath hitch and his hands tighten on the wooden bars. Chris shifts his angle slightly, searching, and Sebastian’s eyes roll back as he pushes his head back against the pillow. He’s coming undone, eyelids fluttering with an overload of sensation, but he isn’t alone. All he can hear is the dirty slap as their skin meets, the scritch scratch of Sebastian’s nails on the covers and eager moans breathed into his mouth.

 

He holds Sebastian’s hip in a bruising grip, threads the fingers of his other hand into Sebastian’s where its flexing against the pillow; hands pressed and fingers locked. Somewhere amongst all of the sensations, he feels Sebastian’s hand squeezing one of his ass cheeks. He vaguely clocks the wet glide so he’s prepared for the spark of bliss when those fingers trail and caress the puckered muscle of his entrance.

 

“Shit, fuck. Aah.”

 

Sebastian licks his lips, hungrily, and works his fingertip inside him, and God Chris’ hips stutter with the overwhelming urge to switch and feel Sebastian spreading him wide and filling him up.

 

“You want to-”

 

Sebastian gasps. “God yes, but next time. Too close.”

 

He doesn’t know whether it’s the ‘yes’, the ‘next time’, or maybe even the admission that he’s on the edge, but Sebastian’s rasping, breathy words drive Chris to thrust harder, to grasp Sebastian’s cock and jerk him off, watching and waiting and knowing he’s going to come and it’s all because of Chris.

 

He feels the indents of Sebastian’s fingernails in the back of his hand where they’re still locked, then Sebastian is coming with a gasp, spilling between them. Chris is so absorbed in watching him that he thinks he might even miss his own climax, but as it happens, it’s impossible; his whole body thrums and sings with it.

 

In the long, still moment just before he comes, he stares at Sebastian as he shudders with aftershocks, sexy and bright and all his. Then the tug in his stomach yanks coherent thought from his brain and pulls him taut, pleasure stretching out through every muscle, and he’s coming with a wrecked sort of sound that he’s never heard from his own lips.

 

As it floods through him, he falls forward, catching his weight on his hands and gently resting their foreheads together. When he laughs, quietly, satisfied and lazy, Sebastian echoes with his own breathy chuckle.

 

Chris props himself up a little and when his vision recenters to see Sebastian, sex-sated and stretching like a cat, he’s actually surprised he doesn’t come again. But then he gets a shirt thrown in his face and Sebastian is laughing at him.

 

“I get to do clean up, huh?”

 

Sebastian smiles, eyes hazy with satisfaction. “Sure do.”

 

Chris smiles tenderly and cleans up willingly, wiping them down and tossing the sticky garment aside. He twines their legs together in a delicious tangle.

 

He clears his throat, feeling brave and happy. “What’s next?”

 

“Breakfast.”

 

Chris kisses Sebastian’s hair, thinks about how to clarify his question. “Well, yes, but-”

 

“I know what you meant, Chris.” Sebastian’s chuckling quietly and he extricates one of his legs so that he can straddle Chris’ lap. “What do you want to do?”

 

Chris knows exactly what he wants, and it involves Sebastian running his fingers over his torso like he is now, then pressing kisses to every inch of Sebastian’s skin and letting himself love unconditionally. And he does. Love him, that is. Unconditionally, wholeheartedly. Chris has never loved by degrees.

 

He wants to say it, to catch Sebastian’s hand as it idly traces patterns over his arms, to pull him in and whisper it into Sebastian’s ear. It’s just that two confessions in two hours might frighten Sebastian away.

 

Sebastian has clearly been lost in his own thoughts too, because he suddenly starts giggling. “Mackie’s pretty good at getting us sorted. Maybe we need to involve him.”

 

Chris groans and slams his eyes shut in embarrassment. “I’m going to stop you there. Mackie’s been far too involved already.”

 

“Hmm, because we were doing such a good job by ourselves,” he retorts, and the grin that’s waiting for Chris when he opens his eyes is stunningly bright. “Ocelots, socks, and business transactions aside.”

 

“Fuck off,” Chris laughs, pushing Seb’s chest playfully; hand to heart.

 

When Sebastian finishes the last little wisp of laughter, his face settles into a contented expression. He leans forward to steal a quick kiss. “Do I have to share you with anyone else today?” he mumbles into Chris’ mouth.

 

“Well, we do have a flight to catch.”

 

Sebastian hides his face in Chris’ neck and makes a little noise borne of irritation and his hatred of flying.

 

“I’ll distract you.”

 

Sebastian lifts his head to quirk a mischievous eyebrow.

 

“Not what I meant,” Chris says, but his brain’s happily creating some visual interpretations, and his cock twitches.

 

Sebastian, of course, notices. “Your dick says you’re lying.”

 

Chris rolls him over, and kisses him quiet. Sebastian chuckles against his mouth, and Chris breathes it in, holds it in his lungs and lets it lighten his bones.

 

Turning them onto their sides to face each other, Chris can memorize every centimetre of Sebastian’s face, every laughter line and every curve.  He knows he’s staring with candid adoration. But Sebastian is adorable.

 

“You’re too cute,” he says in a silly voice. He squidges Sebastian’s chin before nipping at the skin on his neck.

 

“What” – yelp – “are you” – chuckle - “doing?!”

 

“Biting you. Science says I can.”

 

He nuzzles his face under the hinge of Sebastian’s jaw, and into the soft groove of his neck.

 

“You’re cute too you know.”

 

Chris lifts his head up so he can look at Sebastian with smiling eyes. “You want his-and-his matching bite marks?”

 

Sebastian shivers. “Mmm…yes, please.”

 

“People will talk.” He says it flippantly, but it’s also true.

 

“Yeah.” Sebastian’s quieter now, a hopeful expression on his face. “They probably will.”

 

“Yeah,” Chris sighs dreamily. “Or we could just tell them.”

 

Sebastian’s eyes dart to his. “What would we tell them exactly?”

 

In the last few hours Chris has learnt that they don’t always need words to understand each other, but he also knows without doubt that they absolutely need them now. “I don’t know. Maybe that I’m in love with you?”

 

Sebastian blinks, smiles, chews on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “Then I guess we’ll also have to tell them that I love you too?”

 

And just like that, Chris feels like he’s weightless; knows he doesn’t have to worry about the afterwards and yesterdays. And when he comes down he also knows he’ll be able to settle back into himself like he’s never been able to before, because he’s never found it so easy to stop thinking, to get out of his head and to lose himself.

 

He makes an exultant gesture that’s reminiscent of a fist pump, and while it’s embarrassingly silly it gets another laugh out of Sebastian. All he can think to do next is seize Sebastian, squeeze him so close, and watch him smile like Chris is burning brighter than the sun.

 

~

 

**Notes:**

  * @elenaamerican has really kindly let me link to her amazing Evanstan art, which is the perfect visual counterpart to this story. [Check it out here](http://elenaamerican.tumblr.com/post/150635513018/hello). Its amazing!! /li>
  * ]I’m so needy, I know, but please kudos and comment if you like this :)
  * Feel free to come chat to me or ask me questions on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/little-lottie) if you like
  * So I may actually write a continuation, partly because I want to write that switching scene I’ve eluded too but also to develop their relationship further. Would anybody like to see a sequel?



 


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